Blaise Terese

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Living Art
3 months ago
My face is my canvas, my body a mold Cling savagely to what can be controlled. Sought idealism in the reflection Taught by the tabloids what was perfection. Through knives and needles and all that is ...
Trapdoor
3 months ago
Ink around eyes fills the end of the tunnel But don’t fly up like usual; daytime has no funnel. Do not look at me, please do not look at me I’m not myself tonight just the victim you bury. A ring of b...
Silent Screen
3 months ago
The faculty of perception is manipulated when Voice’s tremors echoed by a passage wrote by men. It is only here the city lights grow contrasted to see and a blind girl bestowed the touch that tickled ...
Cyclone
3 months ago
Carefree, great big blue Birds fly Kicked by pink Flamingos lie. Fell from a place not below or above Dusty innocence from refraining from love. Am I wrong for crossing what’s shown? The cycles of oth...